


Downpour

by Cres



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: I Don't Even Know, Rain, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cres/pseuds/Cres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having writer's block with The Golden Echo, but fear not! I wanted to write before bed, so this just happened. It's kinda gender-neutral? I don't know, I just really like Barry. He's ridiculously cute. And so are you.  
> xoxo

I watched Barry lazily as he drove us back to his place. I had volunteered to help him edit the footage for Guild Grumps, and we’d been at it since last night. It was around 3 in the morning now.

When he pulled in, I noticed the weather had picked up. The rain had grown from a very light pitter patter to hail by the time we were inside. Barry went off into the kitchen, and I headed towards his bedroom. I took my pants off and kicked them to the corner where the rest of his clothes was, then fell into his bed.

By the time he came around, I was on the very edge of sleep, my mind teetering in and out of consciousness. I felt him get into bed with me, and then his hand settle itself on my waist. Choosing to roll over, and debating on whether to open my eyes or not, I focused on the sound of the downpour.

“Hey,” he whispered quietly, as if to check if I was awake or not.

“Yeah?” I inched closer to him in addition to my response. The rain outside caused chills down my back. His warmth was calling.

“You don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to. It’s a lot of work, and we’ve got Kevin.”

All I could do was groan in response. It was sweet, but an absolute superfluous gesture. He was putting more weight on himself than he needed to. And any weight he was willing to carry, no matter how excessive it was, I would always be willing to carry it too.

Before I could think of something to say, he spoke again.

“It just feels wrong. You’re far too good to me ______.”

I opened my eyes fully, and beckoned him to sit up as I had done.

“I do it because I love you, silly. No amount of work is going to change that.” He smiled with every inch of his face, and raised his hand to cup my cheek.

Barry and I weren’t in a romantic relationship. Nor did either of us ever show intent to. At least, it didn’t feel that way to me. I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, and always assumed those terms, or whatever they were, get established. The way we’ve ‘explored’, and ‘expressed’ our friendship spoke itself to be the very opposite of platonic, according to everyone else. Despite not knowing whether I wanted a relationship with him or vice versa, I know Barry sometimes gets lonely, and sometimes I do too. Whenever that happens, I’ve learned to kill two birds with one stone.

And now that I was sitting on his bed, pant-less and with his right hand on my face, it dawned on me.

Barry spoke again, derailing my train of thought for good, but not my secret epiphany.

“I’m ridiculously lucky to have you, and I don’t sing you praises enough.” His voice sat just above the sound of the heavy rain outside, which hadn’t let up. At all.

I raised my hand to his own, and lay it gently above it. Then, I leaned into him with my entire body, waiting for him to envelope me with his arms.

His warmth.

His trust.

His love.

All the times I brought him coffee, or food, or simply comfort. The days when he had so much work he wouldn’t – couldn’t, really speak much to me. But then he’d surprise me at my home with lavenders, orchids, and a thousand apologizes I never needed. The times when I felt powerless, and inconceivably small. He would come over and hum to me, the same song every time.

And so he did. Embrace me, that is. He held me so tight, that my heart might’ve stopped from the pressure. And so it did. My heart stopped and shook my entire body in a frenzy that I saw coming miles away.

In all of his warmth and comfort…

I am, unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Barry, and my frightened little heart belongs to him.

 


End file.
